Chloroform
by nothing-chan
Summary: "I'll never swim again." Everyone knew that. The water on Rin's hand had dried up, and he reached back to press his torrid skin against Haru's, "Push." It took a moment for the meaning of the word to take shape, but when it did, Haru pulled the decaying boy backward. "I'll do it myself if you don't, so just do it."


_My love is,_

_cruel_

* * *

If the sky had the consistency of water, how heavy would the Earth be?

Why would you even ask that question? The sky had no effect on the mass of the Earth, the sky had no weight at all, not a significant one anyway.

Rin just fancied he could swim in the sky one day. Not when it was blue, but when it flanked becoming a deep red. Of course it never quite reached that color, only a ruddy peach that melted to black, but the promise of a sunset that could trickle into his bones was more alluring than any tiled, chlorinated box of water.

His lips were chapped, he licked them and jostled with the train as it merged onto new tracks.

* * *

Rin was late, much too late, and his teammates heads bobbed in the water like lost buoys, tethered to nothing. Nitori checked his phone one last time, void of any reply from the much needed captain. With nothing left to do, he resorted to a relatively untapped number, _Nanase_, dial tone barely getting to whisper before the call was answered.

"Nitori," it was not Nanase's voice, but one more cautious, concerned, swift in speaking over Nitori's own questions. "Are you with Rin?"

"N-No, he hasn't shown up to practice, and I know he was visiting yo- Nanase… Is he with you?"

The inside of Makoto's bones rattled when Haru emerged from the living room, news report deafening to a dull barrage. He had ever seen the statue he called a best friend so livid, so wild.

"Hello?"

Neither person spoke, Makoto hung up after the silence got too threatening.

* * *

"You smoke?"

Haru could not get used to the sight of the lithe boy inhaling from a stick of white. He had seen people smoke, but never Rin.

He had lost weight, why did he seem so heavy? It was a burden to keep his shoulders high anymore, they slumped into his lax shirt and liked to ebb with whichever way the wind blew. A piece of paper, a feather with the pressure of a boulder atop of him, flattening Rin's body with each flick of the lighter.

When he grew tired of the silence, and the taste of tar coating his saliva, Rin rolled up the leg of his pants. Underneath was a minefield of burns and scabs, some glistening with clear liquid, others blistered to the point of eruption. Placing the lit cigarette against his maimed skin, he forged a new crater, closing his eyes when the stench became too repugnant.

Any onlooker would have been disgusted with Haru's apparent indifference at the self-disfiguring act, but any onlooker would not have seen Rin end a butt the same way merely hours ago. These wounds were months in the making.

"Let's go," Rin covered his seared body, discarding the empty cigarette box to the ground. Like every time before, Haru attempted to help, but Rin jerked himself forward and out of reach before he had an opportunity to try.

It had been 5 months since the accident, and Rin still was not getting any better.

The doctors said it would take time, but it should not take this long, not with someone like Rin, not with someone so alive.

But then again, he understood he lost his will to live when he lost his legs. He died the moment the train shivered off the tracks and encased him in a tomb of steel and cement. It did not matter what the paramedics said, he was dead the second they lugged him out of the rubble and he cried he could not feel anything.

That never changed, now, leg oozing with charred skin, arms weak as he slaved up a hill on a mechanic chair with wheels, he felt fucking vacant.

* * *

"What do you want to do here?" Haru had turned into the more vocal one, simply because he could never understand. Nothing Rin spoke held any value anymore, what did he care about?

"I want to swim."

Haru did not question his motives as he held the door open for the crippled boy, once a king, trophies heavier than gold to his name, a name heavier than a steel weight attached to his serrated smile. It was difficult to keep sight of him once Rin groveled into the darkness of the closed swimming club, but Haru remained close, steps away from becoming his shadow.

New legs wafting over the floor, Rin curved into the echoing pool area, water blanketed by a reflective cover of night.

He rolled himself up to the edge, tipping, precariously dangling to see his frigid reflection peer back at him. Paler than any stone skipped across the water, he disturbed it with his palm. Haru caught the back of the chair as it began to edge away, grasping so tight his knuckles were mountain ranges inside of his skin.

Rin rolled his head back against the seat, rubbing the wet between his fingertips. Haru swore he saw his hands shake.

"I'll never swim again."

Everyone knew that. He dropped out of school, what use was a captain who could not participate in his own sport? He stopped attending physical therapy, it never worked in the first place. He threw away every ambition, dream, goal, all of the life he conditioned himself to live was gone. No Olympic medal, no recognition, no fulfillment, nothing. He had failed at everything, he had failed his father.

The water on Rin's hand had dried up, and he reached back to press his torrid skin against Haru's, "Push."

It took a moment for the meaning of the word to take shape, but when it did, Haru pulled the decaying boy backward.

"I'll do it myself if you don't, so just do it."

Haru remained inanimate, arms clenched as Rin began to wheel himself forward, one final battle between the two. No matter what state, Rin consistently knew how to make Haru care about winning, and his life was no prize the clouded boy intended on letting out of his hands.

When Haru felt his palms begin to slip, sweat rushing past the rubber grips against the handlebars, he let go.

By the time Rin realized he was set free, Haru already had his face in his hands, lips bound together so tightly neither boy could speak ever again.

Rin Matsuoka did not die that night. Maybe he was never dead in the first place.

* * *

_Hello._

_I have not written in ages and I know this is not up to par with my usual quality, but I'm sure within time and practice I'll get back to how I used to be._

_Life's been hectic, to say the least._

_But I love the song Chloroform by Phoenix, and I just wanted to write Rin smoking, which I knew he would never do in a normal state. So I came up with this. Simple enough._

_Please review, favorite, and have a nice day._


End file.
